The armour lies in a heap
\njust inside the door
\nlike sweaty hockey equipment
\nat the end of the season.<\/p>\n
There across the shoulder
\nthe memory of a mighty blow
\nby some now dead foe
\nthe once gleaming battle-sword
\nnow hacked and dull
\nits grip muddied with old blood
\nlike a torn magazine
\nin a doctor’s waiting room.<\/p>\n
Soon he will come down for a meal
\nand she will slowly open
\nand read to him from
\nthe book of gardens and honey wine.<\/p>\n
[print_link]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
The armour lies in a heap just inside the door like sweaty hockey equipment at the end of the season. There across the shoulder the memory of a mighty blow by some now dead foe the once gleaming battle-sword now … Continue reading